India: Ancient Gods & Modern Methods

While a ceremonial fusillade of firecrackers sounded outside, a black-capped Brahmin pandit recited Sanskrit prayers last week in a factory conference hall at Poona, outside Bombay. It was the time of year for worshiping Lakshmi, the Hindu goddess of wealth and prosperity, to whom all wise Indian businessmen annually offer their order books for a blessing. With his workers during the ceremony, his feet bare and his forehead glowing with a dot of vermilion, sat Shantanu Laxman Kirloskar, the U.S.-educated head of India’s Kirloskar group, a seven-company combine that sells $46 million worth of farm and industrial equipment a year in 42 nations on every continent. Shantanu Kirloskar’s respect for ancient rites is matched by his interest in modern and aggressive management. From the ceremonies, he set off on a flying trip to the U.S., Canada and seven Latin American cities to seek new sales outlets for his thriving companies.

Steel Plows for $8.40. The Kirloskar companies not only dominate their field at home (by producing 65% of India’s diesel engines, 40% of its centrifugal pumps, 36% of its electric motors), but also symbolize the gradual change in India’s old image as a mere exporter of raw materials. Nearly 20% of Kirloskar’s diesels are sold abroad, from West Germany to California, and from the West Indies to the Persian Gulf. Kirloskar plants also turn out a neatly complementary array of products that range from air compressors to vertical turret lathes, from sluice valves to torque converters. But Kirloskar is proudest of his contribution to the revolution in farm methods that food-shy India so badly needs. Although four-fifths of the Indian peasant-farmers still use wooden plows, Kirloskar is busy selling them steel ones at enticingly low prices: $8.40 to $24.15. More important, he is persuading many farmers to shift from bullock muscle to diesel engines to pump water for irrigation.

Kirloskar-“S.L.” to his friends—is a compact (5 ft. 6 in., 150 Ibs.) man of 61 with bird-bright brown eyes and a penchant for gay-toned bow ties. After graduating from Massachusetts Institute of Technology in 1926, he got his little family-owned motor company to branch out into planters, seeders and harrows, invented a machine that speeded peanut shelling by 600% . Kirloskar has been branching out ever since, often by collaborating with foreign manufacturers. He runs his empire of nine scattered plants and 11,000 workers with a light hand. “I direct by invisible authority,” he says. “If things are running right, I don’t interfere.” He keeps in touch by flying from plant to plant in his private twin-engine Beechcraft, relaxes in his Poona home by listening to Western classical music on a stereo hifi.

Sugar Cane & Cow’s Blood. Almost alone among Indian industrial complexes, Kirloskar has no roots in textiles.

Its founder, Shantanu’s late father, was a Bombay teacher who began by repairing bicycles and manufacturing plows 60 years ago. So suspicious were Indian farmers about the quality of local ironwork that it took the elder Kirloskar two years and myriad demonstrations to sell his first six plows. What he learned has governed the company’s sales approach ever since. Says S. L.: “the farmer is not a fool. He is a businessman. You have to prove things to him.” To prove to skeptical farmers that a sugar-cane crusher he invented would extract more juice than old models, Kirloskar borrowed already-crushed cane and extracted plentiful juices from it. Sales soared. Abroad, his salesmen have surmounted even more trying obstacles. Before closing the sale of an engine to an African chief, one fastidious Hindu vegetarian had to choke down a ceremonial drink of hot blood taken from a live cow.